Illumination

Chapter 3

The mercenary group known as Gunther's guns have a motto that says "If you want it done, just grab a Gun!". This catchy slogan, along with relatively inexpensive rates and a reputation for taking any shady job, have made the guns well known through out the sector, where the Guns' missions ranged from simple "blast 'em" jobs, to reconnaissance or even security. Gunther himself had said "We've got a Gun for everyone!", meaning the guns did not discriminate when it came to clientele as long as they were paid, often lending their talents to any number of unsavory organizations that prowled the stars, all the while making their way through the shadowy areas of the system as soldiers of fortune. Richard Pierre was one of those soldiers.  

Richard Pierre was one of the thirty-two guns responsible for maintaining the security of the uppermost level of tunnels that ran below La Alimentaire Méchant, which, according to all but the most informed individuals, did not actually exist. The people who owned the restaurant, the Ra'Leons, one of the most prominent noble families on all of Sortuna, had remarked that the rumor was nothing more than a flight of fancy stemming from some random, addle-brained commoner who had been impressed by the size of the underground food vaults and remarked he "Could 'ave fit 'n army down dere," However, as Richard scanned the other bored and tired faces around the room he concluded that the mercenaries stationed here hardly counted as a full army.  

Stifling a yawn he reached for his radio "This is Pierre. Hallway B through C is clear. Kenson, what's your status? Over." 

It had been three weeks since the tunnels had been rented out by Mr. Plate and the Guns hired to guard it. Three weeks and still no action. No intruders, no break ins, no alerts. Nothing. To top it all off, since they had to be as secretive as possible about their presence here, Plate had forbidden the live ammo training exercises that the soldiers of Gunther's guns often used to relieve boredom and blow off steam.  

"Kenson respond. Over." 

"Lazy oaf has probably fallen asleep again", thought Richard, not that he entirely blamed him. The machines that powered the place did have certain rhythmic hum to them that could have a man dozing if he wasn't too careful. Plus, the generators had to be constantly chilled, which kept the room cool and comfortable, unlike the rest of the hot and muggy tunnels.  

"Hey Jackal."  

A tanned and rough looking man, with a face that could have been stitched from old leather, gave a grunt of acknowledgment. 

"It looks like Kenson has gone and fallen asleep again. Take Britches with you and go trade places with him will ya?"  

At this the slender blonde haired youth known as "Britches" gave a resigned sigh and a halfhearted "Yes sir." Although it had been phrased as a request, there was no doubt it was anything but when Squad Leader Richard Pierre said it. 

The two of them filed out of the room, the automatic door hissing shut behind them. 

"Well, what do the rest of you have to report?" Richard said, turning to the other three people lounging in the empty supply room. 

The remaining three soldiers gave answers that amounted to little more than varied replies of "nothing to see in empty tunnels". 

"Glad to hear it," Richard responded, plopping himself down on one of the metal crates that were serving as chairs for those of the Gunther guns not out on patrol or asleep.  

The group sat there in silence for a while, either because they were too tired to speak, had nothing to contribute or were just enjoying the quiet, lost in their memories of time when the unit got to do things and actually see combat. Richard remembered his part in the burning of the fields of Tananbor or when the guns detonated the dam at the foot of the Sasunir river when the city tried to short them the credits owed or whe- 

A sudden crackle interrupted Richard thoughts. The squad leader saw that his hand radio was reviving a transition from Jackal. 

"About time, Jackal. What've yo-" 

"Run...just get out of there. Go befor..." The rest of Jackal's sentence was lost, the words drowning in an ugly gurgle. 

"Jackal, where are you? I'm going to send Liz and Pete to get you. Stay put" 

Richard turned to mobilize the guns he had with him into action, but stopped short. His eyes widened as he saw that each of the three troopers were still seated on their crates as before, only now they were quite dead. Their blank stares regarded Kenson as blood oozed from open wounds. 

'No! No! This isn't happening!' Richard's mind recoiled in horror, trying to shut out the nightmare unfolding before him. He turned to run screaming from the room. Instead, a muffled thud was all he managed as he hit the floor. 

A quiet voice behind him spoke "This is Specter. Inform Lord Cortez that I am en route to his location."  

The Guild of the Mascherari believe that only through merciless application of force and ritualized shedding of blood can mankind be sustained. This belief, along with a select set of skills needed to further this ideal, are embedded in every of the Guild members through years of combat training and intense mental conditioning techniques. Upon the completion of their training, those adepts who show the most promise are sent out to do the bidding of one of the many shadowy agencies that keep humanity safely on track and running smoothly, while the adepts themselves carry out their lives as little more than living weapons. Valencia Specter was one of those weapons.